Chryed Jealous
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: What's the matter with you?


Syed's pleasant dream was rudely disturbed by the sounds of banging and crashing coming from the kitchen. He forced his eyes open and mumbled groggily,

"Morning. You're up early."

Christian swept by gulping orange from a glass. He slammed it down heavily on the table, making Syed jump.

"Steady, you'll break it!" he warned.

"Whatever."

Christian stuffed some weights into his bag and hoisted it over one shoulder. Bemused, Syed watched him head for the door.

"Don't I get a kiss?" he asked sadly.

Christian turned back grudgingly, leaning down to give him a tight lipped peck on the cheek.

Syed gazed up, his eyes dark with confusion.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah. Busy day today. Got to go."

"Shall I meet you for lunch?"

Christian paused, looking fixedly out of the window.

"Got a client might over run, no time."

"Oh." Syed twisted the edge of the duvet nervously between his fingers.

"Don't forget we're going to the cinema this afternoon."

"Go with Tamwar. Sci Fi is more his thing. Or one of your friends. I might meet up with Steve and Sam, go for a drink."

And he was gone, the flat walls shaking at the force of the door slam.

Syed wracked his brains to find a reason for Christian's foul mood, lying disconsolate and alone in the warm bed. Everything had been fine the night before, in fact his loins ached at the memory of it. He couldn't for the life of him think what had happened to make Christian so grumpy.

He showered and dressed, opening their laptop and checking through the spreadsheet for Christian's appointments.

'Big dumb arse, I take his bookings. Why lie? I know he hasn't got a client before lunch, or this early.'

Syed could feel himself starting to worry, not wanting it to turn into brooding he picked up his mobile and rang Christian's number.

"Hi! This is Christian Clarke. Sorry I can't take your call…"

Syed snapped the phone shut and rubbed it thoughtfully against his chin. Resolutely, he pushed back his chair and headed out into the square. He wandered around searching the gardens, hoping to hear a deep voice cajoling someone to 'pump it really hard' but could find no sign of him in any of the usual places. Crossing the road to avoid Mo, not feeling particularly inclined to be asked an embarrassing question about his sex life, have his bum pinched or be sold a knock off sex toy. He shuddered at the thought and made his way to the café.

Jane put down the slice of white bread she was buttering and wiped her hands on the front of her apron. Smiling she came to the counter to greet him.

"Morning Syeeed. What can I get you?"

"Nothing thanks, I'm fine." he answered brightly, thinking to himself;

'Still putting too many e's in my name Jane."

He scanned the tables, wishing a familiar figure might be skulking in a corner. Noticing, Jane asked,

"You looking for my brother?"

Syed nodded.

Jane picked up a slice of ham and plonked it on top of the bread.

"He's over at ours. His client cancelled apparently. Go over, he's playing some violent computer game with Peter. Very aggressively, you two had a tiff?"

Syed made a small vague grunting noise causing Jane to give him a knowing wink.

"Like that is he? Leave him for a bit, he'll calm down. Once he's had a massive sulk of course."

She bent to fish around for some lettuce in a Tupperware bowl and Syed sloped miserably back towards the flat.

'He can bloody well stew in his own juice, bad tempered old git.'

He jangled his keys in his hand angrily, raging when he trod in a dropped squashed tomato in the market, making Ina look up from arranging a bunch of Gladioli in alarm.

Back at home, he decided to go online and spend the rest of the day on the internet playing games.

'If he'd rather do that than be with me, then so will I.' he thought angrily.

He got bored quite quickly, so instead did a couple of hours doing their accounts. Sorting out Christian's time table for the next week, he found it difficult to fight the temptation to arrange for him to be in two places at once out of spite. As the minutes of the day ticked by, he filled it with household chores, constantly wondering what on earth it was he might have done, anxiously trying to recall any wrong words he could have spoken. As hard as he thought, he came up with nothing, remembering that he could usually call Christian all the names under the sun without him taking much offence, except maybe fat.

'But I haven't and he isn't.' Syed spat on the iron and watched it sizzle.

'Did I burn one of his tops last time I ironed and he's just found out?' he mused, attempting ineffectually to remove a crease from his checked shirt. He switched the iron off in defeat, wishing Christian would come home so that the ironing could turn into something more, something extreme and sexy, as it usually did.

He smiled in anticipation at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, as if on cue, Christian appeared in the doorway.

"I'm ironing" Syed offered hopefully, trying to catch Christian's eye.

But he was staring straight past him, his jaw set in a rigid line.

"So you are."

"Where have you been Christian?" Syed tried hard not to make himself sound needy.

Christian chucked his coat onto the chair and, to avoid having to walk past Syed, vaulted athletically over the back of the sofa. Slumping back, he flicked listlessly through the pages of a free magazine that had fallen out of the newspaper, apparently engrossed in the adverts for incontinence pants and arch supports.

"Working. Then I went to Vauxhall with my mates. What's it to you?"

Syed just about managed not to throw the iron at his head, he could feel his temper rising to boiling point until he just had to let it go.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I know where you've been, so don't lie to mess with my brain. I saw Jane. What on earth am I supposed to have done?"

He bit back his words with dismay as he saw a tear form in Christian's eye, his heart melting at the sight of his stricken face.

"You tell me Sy. You tell me who the fuck Harry is."

Syed frowned in bewilderment.

"Harry? I don't know a Harry. Only Harry the creepy guy that runs the knickers stall in the market, the one with the funny nose and the nude woman tattoo. Do you think I'm carrying on with him? Charming."

Christian pressed his fingers against his temples, swallowing hard to control his hurt.

"No, no. The Harry in your dream, that you love, that you'll always love forever, that comforts you in your bed. You've been talking in your sleep Syed."

A look of relief spread across Syed's features and he felt laughter bubbling, he dashed into the back bedroom, clattering about inside his old trunk, sorting amongst the few things he had managed to salvage from his former life.

Christian recoiled as a battered and smelly stuffed grey toy rabbit hit him hard as it plopped onto his groin. It's fur patchy, one glass eye hanging crazily down on a thread, it's poor ears chewed and torn.

"Oh." he gazed glumly into the rabbits face and it gazed glumly back.

Syed shaking with mirth, had to support himself against the ironing board.

"Christian meet Harry, Harry the rabbit, my childhood friend. You are such a twat. Try talking to me next time you get the hump."

Christian groaned and hit his head against the cushions.

"I am a monumental twat. I'm so sorry Sy, I've messed up both our days."

"The day's not over yet."

He pointed down and Christian grinned.

"You're ironing."

Christian approached him tentatively, laying his cheek against Syed's hand.

"That vest looks a bit creased."

Syed pulled it slowly over Christian's head, breathing in deeply the tantalising bitter sweet sweat tang. He briefly stopped the oncoming kiss with a gentle hand against Christian's bare chest.

"Can you turn Harry round to face the other way? He might get jealous."


End file.
